


Stumped

by redwinehouse (orphan_account)



Series: Cranial Capacity INDEFINITE HIATUS, BUT A FULL STORY LINE WAS COMPLETED [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comedy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/redwinehouse
Summary: An early morning with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson is often unconventional, especially when it involves an unsolvable case, strange body parts and inside jokes. While Sherlock remains offended,  you and John bond over breakfast.





	Stumped

  


[](http://www.dazzlejunction.com/generators/image-generator.php)

  


"I do not have the time for this," Sherlock said irritably as he studied his case wall. Of course, that was a bald-faced lie.

For the last six days not a single person had walked into 221b Baker Street with a case. No one in London, England - a city of 8.8 million, had a case that was interesting enough for Sherlock Holmes. There were no murders, thefts, or even a kitten stuck in tree.

"I just can't seem to make heads or tails of it. THINK YOU IDIOT!" He smacked himself on the forehead and began pacing the room. "It's obvious the key is in sound symbolism but what is the sound?" He mused his hair and flung himself onto the couch. Steepiling his fingers, he closed his eyes and called your name.

"Are you still working on it?" you asked, coming over from the kitchen with a bowl of strawberries.

"Unfortunately."

You sighed. "Sherlock, this is ridiculous. Can you at least have a strawberry?" You obnoxiously smooshed one against his mouth. He batted your hand away.

"No food until it's solved."

He let out a sigh that was both tired and of concession. "Alright." He let you pop a strawberry in his mouth. "But not-"

"No, no, no!" You threw your hands up. "We're cooking. C'mon." You grabbed his hand and lead him to the kitchen. "We're going to have to find a better place for those," you nodded to the pile of signed and unsigned autographs Sherlock was working on.

"Yes. The bin," Sherlock said dryly. He gathered the materials and stuffed them in a cabinet. The word "materials" was used quite literally.

On the evening of the lecture, you had both returned to your flat absolutely drained. Happy, but drained. Sherlock had sank into his chair like putty. "I may have saved some of London's youth," he said, his ego filling up the entire room. 

"To be honest I'm too proud of you and too happy for those kids to be annoyed about how much you love yourself," you replied. You took off your coat and your shoes, something Sherlock had long since done. 

You sat on his lap. "You're going to have to start signing those autographs tomorrow because you have a lot of them." You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tightly. 

He hugged your waist and rested his cheek on your head. He gave a long content sigh. "You didn't think I was actually going to do those things, did you?" he chuckled. 

You deflated and pulled away. "Oh, Sherlock..." You weren't angry; you were disappointed. You had truly thought that he had enjoyed himself on some level and even took a tiny shine to them. 

His brow furrowed, completely confused by your reaction. He had just learned how to read you and he had not expected this. Your eyes, which were just bright and sparkling, had become dull. They started to shine with tears that you were trying so hard to keep from falling. "I've hurt you." He stated matter of factly, his voice soft. He tilted his head to the side as he tried to study you. 

You untangled yourself from him and stood up. "No shit." You pushed him away and went upstairs. 

In the dim light, Sherlock sat, his brilliant mind searching for a reason as to why you were so upset. Normally he could think objectively with pure logic and quantitative methods. However, he was trying to figure out you, the one who had turned him into an utter sentimental fool. The one who had somehow chiseled into his guarded heart and disprove every theory he had on...severe affection. 

"Hmm," he said out loud to that thought. How could he have been so stupid?. "Maybe it doesn't have to make sense," he mumbled to himself, he put his fingers in a steeple. He looked over at the side table where John's phone was. The fact that John thought a beard and crouching behind a chair was enough to go unnoticed was insulting. Hacking the phone in seconds, Sherlock watched the clip he needed. 

"The only reason I am here is because someone I care about asked me to. And she happens to care about you, which is just beyond me because looking at you for a second makes me wa-"

Sherlock shut the phone off. 

That night he had grabbed the roster of the students that had attended and all of the loose leafed paper in the flat. As he ran his finger down the list for the fifth time recounting, he saw that he clearly did not have enough paper to sign. 

Sherlock Holmes smiled. He was known for thinking on his feet. 

"Sherlock...you can't write that," you said, holding up an autographed mummified scalp.

Sherlock grabbed the scalp and studied it. "If he continued to live his life in such a manner then everybody's going to figure out he has a micro penis at some point in his life. He might as well know now. And I signed it!" He shook it in front of your face before tossing it with the others.

"Sherlock Holmes, saving lives, one penis at a time," you joked as you began cracking an egg. At that point, John Watson had stepped into the kitchen, catching the tail end of your conversation and a shower of the piping hot tea that Sherlock had spit out at your comment.

John held up a finger, "Number one: 'ow', number two: why is Sherlock saving penises?"

You handed John a dishtowel. "Apparently Sherlock has been giving students personal advice and comments on all of his autographs."

"No way," John laughed as he sat down. "So are we doing a 'Dear Miss Abby' thing or what?" he questioned as you placed three plates of eggs and all of the desired sides on the table.

Sherlock stabbed at a sausage. "I am merely pointing out everything that is wrong with them and how they could possibly be less of a waste of space."

"Just inspiring." You looked at John.

"A wonder," he agreed.

A look of confusion marred Sherlock's faced as he rapidly glanced between John and yourself. "Am I actually an inspiring wonder or are you two..." He got his answer when you both burst into giggles. Sherlock dropped his fork in a huff. "Well, I do have a case to get back to. So if you ladies want to continue with your idle chit chat be my guest." He stormed out of the room with his breakfast.

"Git," John muttered into his tea.

You took a sip from your coffee, not being one for tea. "He's bored and taking it out on anything that moves." You placed your cup down and let it warm your hands. "He can get a free pass for this one." The two of you watched as he stared at the wall, trying to deduce his current project. "He's a piece of work, but I rarely had any man actually have a genuine interest in what I do. They're either too intimidated by someone with a doctorate, too stupid, or just grossed out."

You didn't see it, but John was giving you a knowing smile. "I'd tell you what he says about you but I think that's up to him." He took another sip of his tea impishly.

"He's talked about me?" You were both shocked and flattered.

John snorted. "Are you stupid? You've been together for almost two years. Of course he's talked about you." Watson pointed his mug at Sherlock. "Can you please end this? I can't take it."

"Yeah, I think it's about time." You gave John's arm a squeeze because you didn't want to get soaked with tea and meandered over to the lion's den.

"Hey, you," you said gently, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "How's it coming?"

"Why do you care?" Sherlock snapped.

"Because I like you a lot and if I have to see you stand in front of this god damn thing for another second I'm going to fling myself off a building."

Sherlock chuckled and brought you to his chest. Wrapping his arms around you and placing his chin on your head he asked, "So what do you think?"

"I think," you answered slowly as you reached out and took the laminated paper off the wall, "that learning Chinese in six hours isn't worth ordering off the Chinese side of the menu." You flipped the menu over to the English side.

"DAMN IT!" Sherlock yelled as he ripped the menu from you. He ran his hand down his face as he read.

You began to fix his hair, which had become a mess since he had become obsessed with his takeout menu.

"I'll probably get the orange chicken," he muttered before stalking off.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said that updates would be slower, but I would like to thank Amy Winehouse and her garmmy winning album Back to Black for just making me powering through this yesterday. It was the anniversary of her death yesterday and I've been so upset. Writing has always helped with negative emotions, so I was able to get this out. I'm also writing the next one; it is in another tab at this moment.
> 
> I hope this was as funny. I've noticed that these have tended to be a rom-com, which is amusing. However, I've already changed it in the next chapter.
> 
> Peace and love <3


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